Sunday
by TwoCentsForFree
Summary: "And I pray. That never used to happen before." A short, angsty one-shot inspired by a few lines from "It's Quiet Uptown."


**A/N: I've got other stuff in the works, too, but I was listening to "It's Quiet Uptown" not long ago, and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Three things inspired this fic:**

 **1) The song referenced above.**

 **2) The fact that Aaron Burr's grandfather was the famous preacher Jonathan Edwards, a man whose theology I greatly admire.**

 **The Bible reading plan I adhere to. All verses are quoted out of the King James Version.**

 **Read and review, please. Typical disclaimer applies: Nothing belongs to me.**

 _Sunday_

" _And I pray. That never used to happen before." Short, angsty one-shot inspired by a few lines from "It's Quiet Uptown."_

Sunday morning always seemed to come too early. Getting six children ready for church and out the door was always a challenge.

 _It was somehow easier when there were seven._

The man stopped just short of the door and allowed his wife and children to enter first. He reflexively made the Sign of the Cross-a leftover from his years of devout belief, he supposed-and slid into the pew next to them. The younger boys were restless and began to elbow each other playfully, earning glares from their parents. But the father couldn't really blame them too much-he was barely managing. The hymns were sung, and he did little more than mouth the words. The prayers were said, and he found his thoughts straying to everything other than the Almighty.

 _Why bother talking now?_

The preacher stood up to give the sermon.

"Our readings today will be taken from the Gospel of John, the fifteenth chapter," he droned, opening the Bible.

 _ **"...These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full..."**_

Alexander bit down a scoff. Joy. Had he ever known joy? On his wedding day. At being so trusted by Washington. At the birth of his children. All distant memories, now. His marriage, family, and reputation lay in shambles at his own hand, and his beloved firstborn son lay in the ground. There was no longer such a thing as pure joy.

" _ **This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you..."**_

He glanced over at his wife, who sat on the other side of the pew. She stared straight ahead, concentrating on what was being said; she'd always gotten more out of church than he had. He tried to remember the last time they had touched and meant it; not since the affair became public. They spent so much time alone, so much time apart. He needed her more than anything, but would she believe him if he told her?

 _Alex loves Eliza._

 _Which is why he ignored her pleas to take a break from his work, and was unfaithful to her._

 _Alex loves his family._

 _Which is why he gave his son a gun and sent him off to die_.

He shook his head. No, she wouldn't believe him. Or if she did, it would take a lifetime. He still heard whispers about the Reynolds Pamphlet around town. He knew Eliza heard them too.

What an arrogant, selfish bastard he was.

 _ **"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends..."**_

The words cut through Alexander like a knife. Philip had shouldered the burden of being Hamilton's Boy like an absolute champion. In spite of everything, the young man had felt the need to defend his father's honor-even at the cost of his own life. Alexander remembered too clearly his very last words to Philip as he had left the house that day.

 _"Make me proud, son."_ He flinched as his mind leapt to watching his brave, foolish, mortally wounded child struggle to communicate through the haze of pain.

 _"I did exactly as you said, Pa. I held my head up high."_

 _"Shh, I know. You did everything just right."_

Alexander shuddered slightly as he tried to will away the tears that stung his eyes. Had those final moments been enough? Had Philip known _just how proud_ his father was of him? Words had failed the man terribly at the time; he could only now hope that the tenderness of his touch had been enough to assure Philip of the sort of love and pride that Alexander had struggled the boy's entire life to properly convey, for there was far too much of it to even begin to express.

The sermon eventually concluded, and the congregants filed out, but Alexander remained in his seat, still lost in thought.

"Papa, are you coming home with us?" little William asked, tugging at his father's sleeve. The man smiled at his youngest son.

"I'll be along soon, Will. Go with your mother and siblings." The boy trotted off, leaving Alexander to resume staring off into the distance. A few moments later, another voice broke through his thoughts.

"Reflecting, Mr. Hamilton?" The preacher was staring down at him.

"Oh, uh...yes, sir. I suppose I was." He rose to leave, but the old man spoke, stopping him in his tracks.

"I know this year has been difficult for you and your family. How do you fare?"

 _What a dumb question,_ Hamilton thought, but he heard himself say,"Well enough, sir." The guilt he felt at the lie was instant. The preacher took in the pitiful sight of the man who looked far too worn down, far older than he was. He nodded.

"Well, Mr. Hamilton," he began, "if I could offer any advice at all, remember to trust in the Lord. Scripture tells us, ' _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.'_ He's there, Alexander. He sees, and He understands." Hamilton inwardly rolled his eyes, and rose to stand.

"Thank you, sir. I must...I must go."

"Of course." The sky threatened rain as Alexander left the church and began to walk aimlessly down the street. He thought about the preacher's final words to him. Could God really see him all the way down here? Surely the depths to which he'd plummeted were much too far. Before he could register what was happening, he felt words pass his lips.

"Valleys." It was a scoff. "This is the longest, deepest valley You could find, isn't it?" He looked up at the clouds, almost expecting an audible answer. "Well listen, I...I don't care if You leave me here to rot...hell, I probably deserve it...but-Eliza and the children-they deserve more. Get them out of this...this valley. Make them okay. Let Philip be okay, if he's there with You like they say. Please. Please..." The final word was almost whispered. Alexander fell silent, and for his effort, was met with the gentle falling of rain. He continued walking.

"Isn't that Alexander Hamilton?" he heard someone say as he passed by.

"Yes," came another voice in response.

"It's a shame that he lost his son a while back. Almost enough to make you feel sorry for him."

"Yes, it certainly is." But the politician, husband, and father of six never bothered to raise his head to address the voices, lest they notice the teardrops that mingled with the rain on his face.


End file.
